


Priority

by Alexis_Tenshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bittersweet, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Character Death, Past Brainwashing, Past Mind Control, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Tenshi/pseuds/Alexis_Tenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a bad time for the world. Heroes were falling. Hydra was rising from the ashes stronger than ever. Captain America was captured, imprisoned and hidden. </p><p>They searched for him, but they never even got close. Eventually they stopped. With everything going on, so much destruction, so many innocent lives in danger, he couldn’t be their priority any longer. Captain America wouldn’t have wanted them to prioritize finding him over saving others.</p><p>Bucky didn’t care. Steve was <i>his</i> priority. Always. He would find him and save him, or he would die trying. The rest of the world could rot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Slight spoilers below, read if concerned about fic content:_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **Canon:** This fic follows movie canon only. It features a brain-washed/ mind controlled Cap. The brain washing happens post-CACW. **It does NOT incorporate any of the recent ‘always a Hydra agent of his own free will’ comic canon.** What happens to Cap here is extremely similar to what happened to Bucky in the movies. There is NO willing acceptance of Hydra’s ideals, or actions, here by Cap or Bucky.
> 
>  **Violence/dark:** There is a lot of mental angst. Bucky does some dark things. Brainwashed Steve does some dark things. The violence is slightly more graphic than the movies at a few points. But there is no up-close, detailed perspective of characters physically suffering, or being tortured. 
> 
> **Death:** There is minor character death shown. **Major characters from the movies are mentioned as dead,** but it happens ‘off screen’ away from our present perspective. Neither Steve, nor Bucky, die. Which is why I didn’t tag it as major character death.

 

Bucky had three years. He had three years of relative happiness. Three years since he’d been woken up in Wakanda and gotten his triggers blocked, been given a new metal arm. Three years with his mind free of Hydra influence. Three years with Steve and his friends. Three years to feel like he might be something close to ok. Three years that he got to almost relax, fight the good fight, and even laugh sometimes.

He was never completely happy, of course. The guilt never completely left him. He didn’t think it would have been right if it did.

He never got exactly what he wanted. He didn’t deserve it, after everything that he’d done. He didn’t even try to follow his heart down that path. It was long ago closed to him. It may have never been open in the first place.

He remembered everything he’d done, even if he’d had no control over it. He’d done it and there was no erasing that. No matter how many people forgave him.

But it was a good three years. The best of Bucky’s life since way back when in Brooklyn, with Steve as kids, before the war. Before Hydra.

He would never be the same person as he was before the war, before the Winter Soldier. He didn’t deserve to be. But he was as close as he could be, for three years.

Three years wasn’t a very long time. But it was something. Maybe more than he deserved. The memory of those years was the only thing that let him sleep some nights. Some nights it wasn’t enough.

The memory of what Hydra had done to him. The memory of what he’d done as the Winter Solider. Those were what kept him moving during the day. Those were what let him do what he needed to do.

That, and the certainly that he would never stop until he freed Steve.

\-------------------------------

When Hydra re-emerged, many in the world were shocked. Bucky wasn’t.

Bucky knew Hydra were supposed to be nearly eliminated. Only a few remnants remained, they had reassured him. Small and practically powerless. Nothing to lose sleep over, they said.

Bucky had listened and nodded. He had tried to believe them. He had acted like he did. But he never had. Not really.

After what had been done to Bucky, it made sense that he could never truly accept that Hydra was gone. He’d be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life.

No matter how securely blocked the triggers were in his head. No matter how many powerful friends he had watching his back. He’d never completely be able to believe that Hydra was no longer a threat.

So Bucky had dismissed his fear as his own paranoia. He disregarded all his instincts telling him that Hydra was just bidding time, just waiting for the right moment to strike again.

He knew Hydra better than any of them, but he let them tell him that Hydra was done. He didn’t believe them, but he kept silent. He didn’t press the point, didn’t contradict them. He didn’t try to convince them to believe him.

Another thing he’d regret for the rest of his life.

\--------------------------------------

When Hydra struck, Bucky wasn’t with Steve. It might have made no difference if he was. But then again, it might have made all the difference in the world. Bucky would never know.

Steve had been with Tony Stark, and other Avengers. Stark had his own group of Avengers by then, government approved and sanctioned. But sometimes he called Steve for help with certain missions.

Stark never let Bucky near them. His requests for help were always only for Steve, alone. Bucky couldn’t really blame Stark for that. Not then and not now.

Bucky wished he could hate Stark for it. It would have been easier if he could. Maybe he even would have, if Stark had survived that day.

But Stark died, other Avengers died, and Steve was captured by Hydra. All while Bucky watched it live on TV, helplessly far away.

\----------------------------------

Finding Captain America was a priority for the Avengers, both factions, for awhile. Six months, to be exact. All the years and years, blood and tears, that the man had given to them, and he was worth six months of their time.

The world’s well being was bigger than any one man, they said. Hydra was quickly amassing power, causing wide spread destruction and death. Cap would have wanted them to focus on defeating Hydra, not on finding him.

Bucky knew they were right. Of course they were. Steve was nothing if not totally self sacrificing for a cause he believed in.

But at the same time, they didn’t understand. Not like Bucky did. They hadn’t been where Bucky had been. They hadn’t endured what Bucky had endured. What Steve was doubtlessly now enduring. There was no way that Bucky was going to let him endure that for a moment longer than he had to.

So, many of the others left, and Bucky couldn’t hate them for it. But he didn’t much like them anymore, either.

Sam might have stayed, if he’d still been alive at that point.

Natasha stayed. She was the closest to understanding what Bucky had been through; what Steve was going through, out there, somewhere.

But she didn’t just stay to search for Steve. She stayed because everyone knew Bucky needed someone to keep him from crossing the line.

The words had no power over him anymore. Bucky couldn’t be forced into doing something he didn’t want to do anymore. But for Steve, Bucky would do anything he could, always.

Maybe in the far distant past Bucky couldn’t have been able to do certain things, no matter the cause. But he’d been the Winter Soldier. He’d already done everything that his former self would never do. He was already far past redeeming. And this time, it was for _himself_ , and for _Steve_.

But Natasha kept him from causing too much collateral damage. He allowed it. He didn’t try to get away from her. She was helping the search more than hindering it, in his opinion. If that ever changed, he would reevaluate.

\-------------------------------

Five years after Steve was captured, Natasha got a phone call.

“Buck, I…I’m going. It’s…that was Clint. They…they got his kids. Hydra took his kids, shot his wife. She’s in critical. I…I’m going to help him. I’m sorry.”

Bucky had nodded and not looked at her. He couldn’t hate her. But if he’d turned his face toward her, his expression would not have been kind or sympathetic.

She was doing the right thing, Bucky knew. Somehow, that didn’t matter very much to him anymore.

Natasha did not ask Bucky to go with her. She did not speak of rejoining him again later. She knew him better than that.

\-------------------------------

Bucky cared, for awhile, how far he might go on his own. Just exactly what lines he would cross. He tried to regulate himself for awhile. He tried to not become so obsessed with the search that he forgot anything else mattered.

First, he lost track of how many Hydra agents he had tortured, how many he had killed. He didn’t care.

Next, he lost track of which Avengers, and other super powered heroes, had died. It had nothing to do with him. He hadn’t spoken to them in years. He didn’t care.

Later, he lost track of how many innocent bystanders he had gotten killed, or allowed to die, for his cause. He tried to minimize this as best he could, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He would remember them later, he thought, if he survived all this and came out the other side. For now, he let himself not care.

It had been eight years since Hydra had captured Steve. That was all that Bucky truly cared about.

He was fairly certain by this point that he was not aging. He cared about that least of all.

\----------------------------------

Bucky’s turning point, in the end, came long distance and via a TV screen. Again.

On the ten year anniversary of Hydra’s reemergence and Steve’s capture, to the day, Hydra held a rally in New York City.

Bucky should have been there. He should have suspected what could happen. But all the information he’d found, or stolen, from Hydra had said the rally wasn’t anything he should care about. It was a demonstration, geared to sway public opinion toward Hydra’s side. A piece of Hydra propaganda, meaningless. The other Avengers, what were left of them, would have it covered, he thought.

He was wrong. He should have known better. The rally wasn’t to garner support for Hydra at all. It was to kill hope, and spread fear. And he’d missed it. Another major regret to add to the long list.

Bucky was eating cold leftover Chinese take-out, probably several days old at this point, in a dingy hotel room in Russia. The TV was on, showing the rally in New York. Bucky was barely paying attention to it, mapping out in his head the next Hydra base he’d strike.

Bucky glanced up as the TV showed the groups of protesters surrounding the square Hydra officials were speaking in. From behind the closest of the anti-Hydra groups, almost as if the TV camera knew to expect it, he appeared.

Bucky stopped breathing. The take-out container fell from his hands to the floor, food spilling everywhere. He didn’t notice. His hands gripped the edge of the bed he was sitting on, the metal one ripping straight through the old mattress sending cotton pieces into the air. He didn’t notice that either.

Captain America, in his classic bright red, white, and blue costume, was standing tall and still behind the protestors. The camera zoomed in on his face, and Bucky’s worst fear was confirmed. It was Steve, unmistakably.

Bucky wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to rip his eyes out with his cold metal hand rather than watch this. But he couldn’t. He needed to see this. For Steve.

On screen, in New York half a world away, the protestors realized something was happening. They turned around, saw Captain America, and started cheering. They welcomed back their national hero with thunderous applause.

They were all totally clueless, completely unprepared. But Bucky knew. Bucky knew as soon as he saw Steve’s eyes. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Captain America raised his shield. It looked exactly like it had the last time the crowd had seen it; all shiny with stars and stripes. The crowd cheered, and he flung the shield into them.

In the air, the edges of the shield opened into razor sharp spikes. It ripped apart all the people in its path, blood and body parts flying everywhere. It plowed through dozens and dozens of people, before it returned to Captain America. He caught it. He threw it again. More people died.

He killed them. Steve….no, the Hydra monster inside Steve’s head….that killed them. All those people. Publically, on world-wide TV.

It was over then, for Bucky. He’d punched the TV with his metal hand, crushing the entire thing and sending electric sparks through his arm.

Bucky fell to his knees on the floor and puked. He wept. He screamed. He cursed. He punched the floor over and over until there was a hole through the boards. He hadn’t been punching with his metal arm.

Bucky was done. He was done caring about anything or anyone besides Steve. He would end this hell for Steve. Whatever it took.

\---------------------------

It took time. Far more time than Bucky wanted to spend. Time that was costing Steve.

There were no more news reports of Captain America sightings after the New York rally. That didn’t mean Steve was in cryo, though. It just meant they weren’t ordering him to do anything public. He could be made to kill someone every night, and no one would know. No one knew when Bucky had been the one doing it.

The rally was replayed on TV over and over. Depending on the country, different amounts of the violence were censored. But unedited clips were all over the internet. As soon as they got taken down, they went back up.

Hydra had a hand in the net, Bucky knew. Hydra was getting more and more powerful. They were gaining control of governments, worming their way in, in secret. Then not worrying about being secret anymore. The rally was a clear sign of how bold they’d become.

Bucky saw it all in his peripheral vision. He was aware of it, maybe more than most. But it wasn’t what he focused on. His priority was Steve. That was all.

He recruited other people to help him, something he’d been loath to do. He hadn’t wanted anyone else involved for awhile.

At the beginning, he’d wanted the Avengers help. Not anymore. He didn’t want to be responsible for them. He knew they didn’t matter to him anymore. Not compared to Steve. Bucky knew he very likely would get them killed and not care enough to prevent it, if they were there. So he didn’t get near them.

But there were others. Other people that could help that had never been close to him, or to Steve. If he got them killed, there might be fewer heroes left fighting against Hydra. But Bucky barely gave that a thought.

That didn’t matter anymore either. All that mattered was Steve.

\----------------------------------

Bucky shot three Hydra agents quickly, and impassively. The gun was empty. He dropped it to the floor and he ran at the next man coming at him.

Bucky punched the Hydra agent on the chin, at the exact right angle and with the exact amount of strength with his metal hand, that the head snapped back and the neck broke. The man dropped to the floor, dead. He picked up the man’s gun. Bucky moved on to the next agent.

Kinney stabbed the claws extending from her hands into one agent’s chest, pulled them out, and then round house kicked another a second later. The claw in her foot neatly sliced the man’s throat with a spectacular spray of blood. He fell on top of the body with the ripped open chest.

Neither Bucky nor Kinney paid any attention to the blood, or the body count. They were both good at this, very good. Probably two of the best assassins in the world. Together, they were fast, quiet, and very, very lethal.

It hadn’t been easy to convince her to help him. She’d never met Steve or Bucky before, or owed him any loyalty. But having been the Winter Solider had taught Bucky many things. He wasn’t just good at killing people. When he put his mind to it, he was also good at influencing them, manipulating them for his own aims.

All he’d needed was a little bit of information. Logan and Steve had fought together during the war, and Logan held Captain America in very high regard. Kinney believed in Logan’s judgment, and he wasn’t around to tell her not to. From there, it was easy enough for Bucky to craft a story to catch the woman’s interest and gain her help.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, killing or manipulation. He didn’t care, at the moment. He’d gotten his objective; the help he needed. She was perfect for his purposes, for this stage of his plan.

They left a trail of dead behind them as they moved through the Hydra base. No one was left alive. That was a stipulation of all of Bucky’s missions since Steve had been captured. If no one was left alive, no one could retell anything that’d happened. Most of the Avengers would have baulked at this. Natasha had tolerated it, reluctantly. Kinney hadn’t even blinked twice.

They made their way down corridor after corridor, killing everyone in their path. Finally, they found what they were looking for; a lab with a certain computer. While Kinney killed the scientists, Bucky hacked into the computer.

Hacking wasn’t a skill he’d acquired as the Winter Soldier, but after. During the good times. Wakandan tech had been used for his new arm, and it came with several upgrades.

Bucky flipped one of his metal fingers back at an angle that would have been impossible for flesh and blood, to reveal a slim usb drive. He slipped it out of his arm, slotted it into the computer, typed a few commands into the keyboard, and soon everything he needed transferred to his drive.

He unplugged the drive and reinserted it into his hand, then pulled back the finger into a more natural looking position. No one would be able to take the drive from him without ripping into his arm, which was nearly impossible.

It was all very efficient. He’d done it dozens of times before. But this time…this time he was fairly certain this information would be what he needed. The final piece. Once he analyzed it back at their hotel room, he hoped to confirm it. He would finally have all he needed to save Steve.

Bucky turned back to Kinney, who was now carrying several bags of other items that they’d use. As she moved toward Bucky, a missed man ran out from behind a desk and pointed a gun at her back.

Bucky said nothing. His facial expression barely twitched. He shot the man through the head before Kinney had time to look over her shoulder. When she turned back to Bucky, her eyebrows were slightly raised, but that was all.

“Are we done here?” she asked.

Bucky nodded, saying nothing. As usual, they did one more sweep to make sure everyone was dead on their way out.

\------------------------

When Bucky saw Steve again, finally, over ten years after the last time they’d been face to face, Bucky nearly lost it. He nearly broke down crying, right there, and blown the whole thing. The amount of emotions surging through Bucky was almost too much to control.

This man meant everything to him, and he had…he would finish it. He would do what he needed to do. This was for Steve. This was the best way, the _only_ way. Bucky would finish it, he told himself, a mantra inside his head. He would follow the plan and it would be worth it in the end. No matter how much it was killing him inside.

Steve looked so different. He hadn’t aged, any more than Bucky had. The serum had taken care of that. Physically, at first glance, not much had changed. That was how the crowd at the New York rally had known him immediately, as the real Captain America, and saw nothing wrong with him.

But Bucky saw it. Bucky saw it all, and understood. Then and now. Steve was hunched over, withdrawn within himself, even as he stood up and stared forward. He was trying to make himself small, something he never did, even ages ago when his body was tiny.

His stare was hollow, empty, emotionless, blank. But that was the shell. Behind that, in those eyes, was the pain. All the pain he’d endured, all the years, all the torture, all the deeds they’d made him do. They were all there, in his eyes, if you just knew how to look deeply enough. Bucky knew. His eyes had looked the same, once.

Steve had just been woken from cryo. It looked like they hadn’t allowed him to shower before putting him to sleep last time. He was covered in dirt and grime; it ran in streaks along his arms and was caked in his hair. He wore a simple white shirt and jeans, both filthy as well.

The Hydra guards pushed and shoved Steve down into the chair in the middle of the room. They were about to stuff the mouth guard into his mouth, when Bucky spoke up.

“There’s no need for that. He doesn’t need another wipe first.” The Russian words left his mouth flawlessly, as always.

“You sure?” The first guard looked at the second in question. “Doc Green always did a wipe again before every mission, to be sure. This one keeps remembering things he shouldn’t, is a real pain. Maybe you weren’t briefed well en…”

“Enough!” Bucky snapped, putting the urge to kill them behind his voice, “I am in charge here and you will let go of the asset and step away, right now, or you will be removed and reprimanded!”

He felt Kinney tense behind him. There were only five guards in the room, total. The two that had brought Steve in, two positioned at the door, and another by the main computer in the room. She could have them all dead in less than a minute. But there were more Hydra agents watching from a room above, and more outside. It was eight levels up to get out of the base, with dozens and dozens more agents between here and there.

They might make it, the two of them, even with Bucky dragging along Steve as he was now; dazed and mindless. But their chances were low. If they could finish the plan first, their chances were much higher.

Thankfully the guards listened to him, as if deciding if he screwed up, it wouldn’t be their fault. They leered at Kinney, but backed off in response to her hard stare back. Their disguises were working perfectly, so far.

Bucky was posing as a Hydra scientist, while Kinney was his assistant. She hadn’t needed to alter her appearance too drastically. She wore different clothes and carried herself differently. She was very good at it, and Hydra wasn’t that familiar with her, so that was enough.

Bucky wasn’t so lucky. His metal arm was securely covered under several layers of cloth and glove. He wore a mask, a complicated one that covered his entire face and made him accurately resemble an entirely different person.

He hated it. It reminded him of the mask the Red Skull had worn all those years ago. It looked nothing like the mask he’d worn as the Winter Solider, but it still felt like that too; restrictive and choking. He hated it, but it was necessary.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve again. Bucky nearly broke again. There was no recognition there. Bucky hadn’t expected there to be. But he also hadn’t expected doing this to be so hard. To feel so much like another betrayal. Steve would forgive him, if they were successful in the end. Bucky still hated himself for it.

Delaying would solve nothing, though. It would just increase the risk someone would notice something was wrong. So despite wanting to throw up, Bucky began,

“Star

One

Newspaper

Red”

The Russian slid of Bucky’s tongue with perfect ease. He knew the words like he knew his own name, had memorized them from the records easily. As each one left his lips, it felt like another bullet piercing his heart.

“Howling

Zero

Purity”

Steve twitched, his muscles tensed, as Bucky got closer to finishing. He was resisting, Bucky realized. Some part of Steve was still fighting. Because of course he was. He was Steve.

“Wheel

End

Seven”

The words finished, Steve’s body stilled.

“Captain?”

“Ready to comply.”

Hearing Steve’s voice, so broken and hollow, was another dagger into Bucky’s heart. But he’d gotten this far. He had to finish it. There was absolutely no other choice left now.

Bucky leaned closer to Steve. He put his lips nearly close enough to touch Steve’s ear. He kept his voice low. No one else in the room should be able to hear him.

“Your mission is to obey _me_ only. You will listen to me, _only_ , until I tell you to stop. Hear my voice, remember it, recognize it. You will only obey when you hear it.”

Bucky moved back a few inches. He kept his voice low. He knew he needed to hurry. They would realize something was wrong soon.

“Look at my eyes. Not my face, that will change. Look at my _eyes_ , and remember them, recognize them. Obey only _me_.”

Steve locked eyes with Bucky and held his stare. Bucky forced himself to not flinch away from the pain in Steve’s expression, the confusion, the lack of recognition. Then Steve’s brow furrowed, his eyes squinted, his mouth opened…

“You will leave this base with me.” Bucky cut him off. He didn’t know if Steve recognized him, but he needed to finish this, now. “You will stay with me; never leave my side, unless doing so endangers your own life. You will do whatever possible to keep yourself alive, healthy, and well.”

Steve’s confused expression deepened. He opened and closed his mouth, but he said nothing.

“Do you understand your mission, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now move! We’re fighting our way out of here!”

Bucky pulled Steve to his feet, grabbed the gun he had hidden under his lab coat, and shot one of the guards in the head; all in one fluid motion. A second later he had the next guard shot, and was guiding Steve by his arm toward the door. Kinney had finished slicing open the last of the other three, a moment later.

They made their way out, the three of them. Steve listened to his orders, saying nothing. Bucky wanted to watch him more, make sure he didn’t get hurt, but he couldn’t afford to. He had to fight. All three of them did. And they were all very good at it. Bucky’s gun, Kinney’s claws, and Steve’s fists took down agent after agent.

Steve picked up a gun, before long. Steve rarely used guns, before. Now he didn’t hesitate. He killed as many of the agents as Bucky did, on their way out. He didn’t leave Bucky’s side.

They were making good progress. They were nearly outside, when another wave of agents came at them, shooting. Bucky shot two, Steve shot three, before both their guns ran out at the same time. Kinney was a few feet away, slashing away.

Agents shot at them, Bucky reflexively blocked them with his metal arm, the bullets tearing through the cloth covering it to reveal the silver shine underneath. Steve stopped and stared at Bucky’s arm. Bucky could _see_ him trying to remember. He knew what Steve was going through; the pain, the disorientation. They had no time for it now.

“Remember your mission!” Bucky snapped at him.

Steve flinched and Bucky hated himself for it, but it worked. Steve grabbed another gun from a downed guard, as did Bucky, and they were on their way again.

\---------------------------------------

Once they were safely some distance from the base, Bucky called them to a halt to catch their breath. He ripped off the damn mask and flung the fleshy looking material to the ground. Steve stared at him, but he said nothing. Bucky stared back, waiting, until Kinney spoke and broke the silence.

“You really think getting him out of there will turn the tide against Hydra? You really think it’ll make that much difference? I know Logan trusted him, thought he inspired people, but he’s just one man.”

This was far enough from the base to do it now, Bucky decided.

“No. I don’t really think it’ll make any difference to the war against Hydra at all.”

Bucky turned and shot Kinney in the face, perfect aim, bullet to the center of her forehead. She fell back, laid on the ground, blood pooling out from under her head. Bucky moved closer and shot her in the face again, and again. He emptied the gun’s entire clip into her skull.

Now that he had Steve back, he didn’t need her anymore. She would never have agreed to the rest of the plan. Being able to get rid of her this way was why he’d chosen her from the beginning.

She would live. She would heal. But it would take time. Enough time to get himself and Steve out of here and far away. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t care enough to find him to seek revenge, would be too busy with the fight against Hydra. If she did come after him, it wouldn’t really matter. As long as he had time to help Steve first.

Steve watched Bucky turn the woman’s face into pulp with the hail of bullets. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t react. Bucky wanted to explain, but there wasn’t time. They needed to start moving again, now, and quickly. He doubted Steve was ready to understand yet, anyway.

\-------------------------------------

“Eat that. Eat until you’re full.” Bucky told Steve, pointing at the various containers of food he’d laid out on the table.

Steve frowned at him in confusion, but obeyed.

They were in a cabin, deep in the mountains. They’d taken a plane Bucky had hidden some miles from the base ages ago, before recruiting Kinney.

Bucky had planned everything. It had killed him inside.

He’d know where Steve was for months. Finding a way to get him out without getting him killed was the harder part. Then he’d thought about using the words. He hated himself for it. But it could work, he knew.

The words were harder to find than Steve’s location. Bucky had to have them, had to know them, before he went into the base where Steve was held. The disguise wouldn’t have worked otherwise. Steve wouldn’t have followed him out, otherwise.

But finding the words had taken months. More months leaving Steve in Hydra’s hands. Leaving him to be tortured and used. Bucky had hated it, but he had done it. Now they both had to live with it.

Steve was eating, while watching Bucky. Bucky sighed, putting down his own food. He had to start sometime. He was terrified he was going to screw this up horribly. But waiting solved nothing. They ought to be relatively safe here, at least for awhile.

“Do you know your name?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Captain America.”

“No. Your name is Steve. You’re my friend.”

Steve’s only response was a bewildered stare.

Bucky had expected this. What they had done to Steve…it was very much like what they had done to Bucky, but not quite.

They had wanted to use Steve’s status as Captain America. Bucky had been no one important to them, just a soldier. But Captain America, having control of _him_ , that was different. So they wanted him to remember being Captain America, but they stripped away _Steve_. They wanted the patriotic shell, twisted to their own purposes, and nothing of the real man underneath it.

That was what the rally had been about; showing the people even their most treasured hero could be controlled. That the one man that had once represented their freedom could be made to represent their oppression. That their symbol of hope was gone, replaced within the same body as a symbol of despair.

They saw Captain America as a symbol, as an icon, never as a person. Hydra, the Avengers, the people they helped; all of them did. None of them really ever saw Steve as _just Steve_.

Except Bucky did. Bucky always had. Bucky always would. That was why he had to be the one to do this. He wanted to save _Steve_ , not Captain America. He didn’t give a shit about making their Captain well enough to rejoin the war against Hydra. All he wanted was his Steve back. That was his priority.

“Bucky?”

Bucky’s head shot up to look at Steve. Steve’s face was still full of confusion, but he was trying. He was trying so clearly to remember. It hurt. It hurt him horribly, to try and remember. To reach for memories, to feel them so close, but to only find blank spaces where they had been, and pain. Bucky knew.

“Yes?”

“That’s you….you’re…Bucky….you’re Bucky? You’re…you’re my Bucky?”

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice shook. He struggled to hold back the tears.

“You’re my Bucky. You’re…you’re important to me…why? Why don’t I remember?! Why do I remember you and not…?!”

“You will. You will remember. It will take time. It will take help. But you will.”

“You…you’ll…you’ll help me? Bucky?”

“Yes, I will. I’m not leaving your side. I’m with you 'til the end of the line.”

Steve flinched. Bucky’s heart ached to see him in such clear pain. Steve knew those words, Bucky could tell, but Steve didn’t know how. Trying to understand, trying to push through the pain and confusion of what Hydra had done to his brain; it was hell.

But he was already making faster progress than Bucky had. Ever since the serum, he’d been a faster healer than Bucky. The copycat serum Hydra had given Bucky had never been as good.

“With you…'til the end….”

Steve frowned deeply, as if he couldn’t manage to make himself say the rest of the words. But it was enough. For now. It was far more than Bucky had expected.

\-------------------------------

They spent less than a week at the cabin. Just enough time for the wounds they’d sustained escaping the base to begin to heal.

Steve said little and Bucky didn’t push. Bucky knew this down time was the first step toward Steve’s memories starting to return.

As the Winter Soldier under Hydra’s control, Bucky spent his life either on a mission, in pain, or in cryo. He had been given no time to think, and that was by design. If there was no time to think, there was no time to question; no time to realize what he was missing, let alone try and retrieve it. When he’d finally gotten that time, all those years ago, after pulling Steve from the river, his memories had started to follow.

Then Bucky had run. Both from the shame and guilt of what he’d done, and the fear he’d be found and made to do it all again. What followed was a long two years; full of loneliness, guilt, fear, and running.

That part would be different for Steve, Bucky swore.

\----------------------------------

The first step, after leaving the cabin, was to get Steve’s words blocked. Bucky had had everything planned in advance.

He’d found a powerful telepath, unaffiliated with the Avengers or any other political connections. One that worked for pay, but also had a trustworthy reputation and good morals. An older woman named Agatha Harkness. Bucky had found out everything there was to know about her before deciding.

Bucky had considered trying to find Wanda. She was the one that had blocked Bucky’s words, once they’d figured out how. She cared about Steve, saw him as a friend. But she was still an Avenger. Still someone Bucky didn’t want involved. Still someone that saw Steve as Captain America more than anything else.

Harkness lived in an old, rundown neighborhood not far from London. She’d immigrated there from the US in the late 90s, which suited Bucky. He didn’t want to take Steve back to America unless absolutely necessary.

Her house was full of cats, mostly black ones that seemed to like Bucky for some odd reason. She made both Bucky and Steve tea before she started to work, though she must have know Bucky wouldn’t drink it.

And then she did her job.

\-------------------------------

The next step was to go into hiding together, the two of them; Bucky and Steve. Somewhere quiet, peaceful, hidden, and secure. Bucky had found the place and took Steve there.

Another cabin, but this one was deep in a forest, rather than on a mountain. Both of them had had enough cold to last them several lifetimes. It was close enough to a small town to travel there and back in a day, for supplies. But far enough that no one would come that way if they didn’t know where they were going. There was no road there, but Bucky had bought a good four-wheel-drive jeep.

It wasn’t a perfect place, maybe. But it would do, for now. Bucky wouldn’t hesitate to move them again, if he got wind of anything. He had a long line of other places ready, if necessary.

The place itself wasn’t important, to Bucky. Steve was important. He was _all_ that was important.

Steve still spoke little. He stared a lot. He stared into the distance, remembering or trying to remember. He stared at Bucky. Sometimes when Bucky called him Steve, he forgot that was his name.

But he never forgot Bucky’s name. It was one of the few things he did say, consistently, as if trying to reassure himself Bucky was real. Bucky knew the feeling. He’d spent a long time, during his recovery, thinking Steve was just a dream.

Steve’s trigger words were blocked. They’d tested it, to be sure, after Harkness had finished. But his memories were still jumbled. The telepath could have forced him to remember more quickly, but that could have caused more damage than good. It was better to let him remember naturally, in his own time.

Steve needed that time. He deserved it. The world more than owed him that, in Bucky’s opinion. Time to remember, and time to deal with those memories. The last thing he needed were people asking anything of him. The last thing he needed was pressure to be a hero again, to be Captain America again. He needed time to just be Steve. Time to find for himself who that Steve would be.

It wouldn’t be the Steve that had been Captain America. Hydra had twisted that identity into something beyond repair. It wouldn’t be the little guy full of endless fight and fire, from back in Brooklyn so long ago. Time and war had changed that person forever.

But it would still be _Steve_. Steve, who was Bucky’s friend. Who Bucky would do anything for. Who Bucky had done everything for.

Beyond that, Steve would have to decide for himself what kind of man he was now. Bucky would help, as much as he could, of course. But the choice had to be Steve’s. Whatever he chose, Bucky would be there by his side.

Selfishly, Bucky hoped that Steve would want to stay in hiding. He hoped that Steve wouldn’t want to jump right back in the fight. Eventually, sure, when the time was right. But for now…maybe for a long time, Bucky was tired.

Bucky felt like he’d been fighting all his adult life. Fighting in the war, fighting _against_ himself, fighting to _stay_ himself, fighting to stay _free_ , fighting for _Steve_. He had done what he had to do, he didn’t regret it, especially that last part. But he was tired. He longed for time to just _live,_ with Steve. If it wasn’t with Steve, it was meaningless to him.

If Steve wanted to jump back in the fight, then Bucky would have his back. He always would. But he hoped that wouldn’t be Steve’s choice.

But that wasn’t his most guilty hope. That bit of selfish desire for mutual rest was nothing compared to what Bucky felt in his heart of hearts.

Bucky had always loved Steve. Always. In every possible way there was to love someone, Bucky loved Steve. Bucky had always wanted Steve, in whatever way he could have him.

He couldn’t tell Steve, back in the beginning, the time was against them. He couldn’t tell him later, Bucky didn’t deserve Steve after what he’d done.

Now, now maybe, when Steve recovered enough of his memories….maybe Bucky could tell him. Maybe they deserved each other now.

How messed up was that? Bucky couldn’t bring himself up to Steve’s level, so in his deepest shame, a part of him was glad that Steve had fallen to Bucky’s.

And in that thought, he fell further down, Bucky knew. Wanting that…being glad even just for a split second that Steve had done what Bucky had done…that was unforgivable.

His most guilty hope? That he could tell Steve everything now, and Steve would understand. That Steve would want him anyway. That Steve would forgive him anyway.

Bucky didn’t deserve Steve. He would never deserve Steve. He knew that now. He’d always known that. But…if Steve would have him, Bucky would still accept. He would still take absolutely anything and everything Steve offered hm.

He was a selfish bastard. Well and truly damned, he thought. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was Steve.


	2. Epilogue I

Bucky was crying.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt useless.

The old him would have known what to do, wouldn’t he? The old him was perfect; infallible Captain America. Always right, always faultless.

Was that true? They had said it was. He wasn’t sure anymore.

_“He wept for you.”_

The words came unbidden to his mind. Another tangled memory he didn’t understand. He didn’t recognize the voice. He did recognize the pain it caused him. Apparently it wasn’t a new thing, Bucky crying for him.

He…Steve, his name was _Steve_. Bucky always got sad when he forgot that. He needed to remember for Bucky.

He needed to remember _everything_ for Bucky. Bucky deserved that. Bucky may not have thought he did. Steve could tell that much, even without all his memories, just from the man’s behavior in front of him. But Bucky was wrong about himself. Steve knew Bucky deserved everything good, everything he wanted.

Bucky was _everything_ to him. Steve knew that, better than he knew his own name. And maybe that was enough.

Steve had been keeping silent, waiting. He had thought if he talked too much, without really understanding everything, he would hurt Bucky more. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe all he needed to know was the one thing he’d always known.

Even when everything else that was him had been stripped away, Steve still knew how he felt about Bucky, deep down inside himself. When they took everything from him, Steve had held onto Bucky the longest. He’d buried him deep down in his heart, where they couldn’t find him.

Even if Steve forgot the details…what Bucky looked like, what their childhood had been like, what they’d done together…he still remembered how he felt.

Maybe it was time to tell Bucky that.


	3. Epilogue II

Laura was being followed, she was certain. She’d acquired the tail somewhere in Russia, had thought she’d lost them in England, to only pick them up again a few days later. It was just one person, she thought, though she couldn’t identify anything else about them yet. Annoying.

They were good, whoever they were. But Laura wasn’t intimidated. She was also very good. And she never forgot her debts.

The one she’d been tracking was also very good. It’d taken her a long time. Longer even, because the trail was so cold, the debt so old. That made it no less due.

The war had ended three years ago. Hydra was either completely destroyed this time, or in hiding enough that even she couldn’t find them. It had been bad. Whole countries were in rubble. Millions of people had died worldwide. But the good guys had won in the end. At least, the guys Laura considered good. That was debatable, in some circles.

Laura made her way through the forest, thinking as she walked. Her tail was behind her, though Laura hadn’t made out any new details about them. That left her either the option to trail back, try to find them, or to go onward to her target.

She’d prefer confronting her tail and her target separately. But so far she hadn’t been able to catch the tail each time she’d doubled back. So she decided to press on. If the tail chose to confront her when she reached the target, so be it. More mess, but Laura could handle it.

Soon, Laura was nearing her destination. She found a suitable tree and climbed it to observe the area and look for her target. She pulled a small set of binoculars from her belt pack.

The cabin was small, but sturdily built. It wasn’t the first such place the two of them had lived, Laura knew. They’d kept moving, every so often. Not consistently enough to create a pattern. But often enough to never get too comfortable. Her target knew what he was doing. Laura never doubted that.

Seeing no activity in front of the cabin, Laura moved toward the back. She jumped from tree to tree, easily and soundlessly, until she’d reached a tree positioned where she wanted. She again raised her binoculars.

The back of the cabin was not so empty. A man worked there, chopping wood. His blonde hair made him easy to identify. Captain Rogers, alive and apparently well. It had been eight years, total, since she’d last seen him. Just before she’d been shot multiple times in the head. He looked the same.

He wasn’t her target. But he was an expected complication.

She watched his muscles flex as he cut through the wood, with a critical eye. He was as strong as ever, she decided. He could rip through those logs with his bare hands, if he chose to. She wasn’t sure if he could _get_ less strong, if his muscles could wither from disuse, or if he could get fat, even if he tried; after what the serum had done.

The back door of the cabin opened and another man emerged. He wore a short sleeved shirt, making no attempt to hide his metal arm, so he was easy to identify. It was him; her target; Barnes.

Barnes carried a glass of  lemonade, complete with lemon slices floating in it, out to Rogers. They spoke to each other, smiling and at ease, but Laura wasn’t close enough to make out the words. The Captain took the lemonade, drank some, set it down, and then kissed Barnes on the lips.

It wasn’t a friendly kiss. It involved a good deal of tongue and a little bit of teeth. It was most definitely sexually charged. But it was also tender, full of fondness. Barnes wrapped his arms around Rogers, his hands grabbed his waist and pulled the slightly larger man closer. They both moved in a familiar way, as if this was something they had done often, over a long period of time. Their bodies moved together as if it were second nature.

Laura blinked, continued watching, considering. This was good for her. The more distracted the two were, caught up in each other, the easier it would be to sneak closer and get an advantage over the target.

From behind her came the sound of a gun hammer being pulled back, barely heard. Laura tensed and whipped her head around, her claws extending from her hands.

“I wouldn’t. You’re fast, but not faster than a bullet. I know where to aim to hurt you the most, and won’t hesitate.”

Laura froze, for the moment, to study her adversary. Her tail had decided to introduce herself, obviously. The taller woman hung from a nearby tree, looking completely comfortable there, and confidently pointing a gun at Laura’s head.

“Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow.” Laura commented calmly, “A pleasure, I’m sure. Didn’t expect it to be you. Thought the Avengers had given up old Cap for dead, years and years ago.”

Laura was impressed, she admitted to herself. The Widow had been following her for a long time. She must have been lying in wait, somewhere along the trail Barnes and Rogers had left. If she’d been on the lookout for threats to them, or for they themselves to resurface, Laura couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered.

“You do realize what a fight you’ll have on your hands if you try to hurt him, don’t you?” the Widow asked, showing she had at least some idea why Laura was there.

“I do. Doesn’t change anything. He still owes me.”

“What can I offer you to get you to leave the two of them alone, permanently?” the Widow continued, “Money? Tech?”

Laura shook her head, that wasn’t what she was after.

“Your revenge can’t be worth…”

“Didn’t say I was here for revenge.” Laura countered.

The Widow raised her eyebrows at that, clearly surprised. She ought to know better. Laura had better things to do than seek out every idiot that had ever shot her and left her for dead. But then, Barnes was no idiot. He was different in more ways than one.

“I’m looking for help for a job. Barnes has exactly the skills I need. And he owes me.” She stated the facts, simply.

“Might these be skills that I have, too? You might find that I’m less…rusty….than Barnes. No pun intended.”

Laura snorted. The Widow had definitely intended the pun. Though it was inaccurate, in both ways. Barnes would never let his skills, or his arm, be in anything other than pristine condition. Not while he was still set on protecting his Captain, anyway. And that seemed to be a ‘for life’ arrangement, from what Laura could tell.

“I suppose I could give you an audition.” Laura conceded, looking the other woman up and down.

“And if I pass, and help you, this will count as Barnes’ debt paid in full?”

Laura nodded. If the Widow wanted to stick her neck out for Barnes, so be it. It made no difference to Laura. As long as the Widow was as qualified as her reputation suggested.

\---------------------------

Black Widow was very qualified, Laura decided, after a quick series of tests. It took less than an hour to test her, and they only moved into a nearby clearing for it. They heard nothing from the cabin during that time.

And yet, when they returned to it for another look, Barnes and Rogers were gone.

On closer inspection, the cabin was completely empty of anything personal, it barely looked lived in. There was nothing left to track them with, no tire marks in the ground, no footprints. No trace.

For all she could see, the two of them could have left weeks ago. But she knew her eyes hadn’t lied. They’d been there less than an hour earlier.

Like she’d thought, Barnes was very very good, and not rusty in the least.

But he was also no longer Laura’s concern. She would get along quite well with the Widow, instead. She might even prefer it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> -Laura Kinney is X-23, for anyone unfamiliar with the character. This is an ambiguous version of her based loosely on the comics. 
> 
> -If it was confusing, considering how much time passed, I went with the idea that none of the four of the characters here age (or their aging is very slowed). Nat, Steve, and Bucky because of the serum (even though they each got different kinds), and X-23 because of her mutation.
> 
> -I started writing this before the comics canon debacle of Cap being Hydra. With that blowing up, I considered scrapping this. But I decided to not let that change my mind and am rather proud of it now. This is also my first fic for this fandom. If you liked it, kudos and comments are highly appreciated!


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